


Baked Goods

by Aisene



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst-Free, Crack, Fairy name generator, M/M, This might be the worst thing I’ve ever written, higher than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisene/pseuds/Aisene
Summary: Neither realized anything was amiss about the brownies, even when Crowley discovered that he had fingers and Aziraphale met the fairies that lived in his bookshop.





	Baked Goods

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2011, but I'd completely forgotten it. The prompt was "Jealousy, but no angst." I delivered, damnit, but taught the (completely silent) requester a valuable lesson: specificity is your friend! And also I was (am) weird. But you, dear reader, likely knew that.

It all ended when Aziraphale Blasphemed.  It all started when Adam decided to bake some brownies for his godparents.  
   
Actually, no, it really started when Crowley got a bad cold.  
   
Which, in retrospect, actually began one rainy Monday when Aziraphale was performing his annual Reorganize the Books Day, this time putting books in order by the Elder Futhark alphabet.  Crowley, as he usually did, hung around but actually didn’t help whatsoever, which Aziraphale was more than used to by this point in their relationship.  Today he decided his method of disruption was to put on an iPod and blare music while singing and dancing around.    Aziraphale paid him no attention until a few words caught his ear:  
   
_“When I walk in the spot, this is what I see – everybody stops and they starin’ at me!  I got passion in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it…”_ The demon pulled down his sunglasses so Aziraphale could see his wink.  
   
Aziraphale opened his mouth to tell him off.  
   
Crowley whipped off his trousers, revealing nothing more than a black speedo.  _“I’m sexy and I know it!”_  
   
Aziraphale, ears bright red and certainly not staring, kicked him out and locked the door.   
   
“Awww c’mon,” Crowley whined, trying to claw his way back in from the rain, “It’s just a song!”   
   
Aziraphale opened up and threw his trousers at him before slamming and locking the door again.  
   
And that is how Crowley caught a cold.  He was so miserable that he reverted to serpent form so he could slither back in and wrap around his angel, which Aziraphale begrudgingly accepted.    He balanced carrying Crowley around him while dabbing at his nose with a hanky, and finishing up the rearranging of his far more precious books.  As an angel and a professional doter, he soon settled down with a cup of tea and a book to pet Crowley and take care of him, cooing and comforting in a way that Crowley secretly craved even if he felt obligated to act as if he hated it.  Neither mentioned the speedo incident.   
   
When the phone rang, Crowley tightened to try to prevent Aziraphale from answering it, but that didn’t stop him.  “Hullo?”  Aziraphale beamed as he recognized the voice on the other end.  “Oh, Adam dear, how are you doing?  …  Oh, good for you, absolutely wonderful…  Yes, yes…  Oh, he’s here, he’s got a cold so he’s rather cozy at the moment.  Oh, of course we can, we have human bodies…  Well, that would be awfully sweet of you, but you don’t have to…  Thank you very much, dear boy!  Oh, of course, I’ll let you go, take care!”  He hung up, and Crowley tightened his coils pointedly.  “That was Adam,” he explained, “He just let me know he’s made it in to university, isn’t that nice?  Oh, and he said he’d be sending you a get-well gift.”  
   
“That’sss niccce,” said Crowley, referring to the gift, not Adam’s continuing education.  
   
And so that is why Adam decided to bake a plate of brownies for his godparents.  Sure, brownies were probably not the best treat for a cold, but hey, it was the thought that counted.  Rather more like a mischievous imp than a great demonic power, he arbitrarily decided that those two needed a bit livening up, and thus he made the brownies a bit more… _special._  
 

* * *

  
“Oh, what a sweetheart that Adam is,” Aziraphale purred the next night over the new brownie plate.  “Such a dear.”  He started to eat.   
   
“Hey, he made thossssse for me,” Crowley pouted, because when sick Crowley becomes an extra 150% more petulant.  Aziraphale took a forkful and shoved some into Crowley’s mouth.  He swallowed it whole, and smiled like a snake, because he didn’t have a choice.  
   
Neither realized anything was amiss about the brownies, even when Crowley discovered that he had fingers and Aziraphale met the fairies that lived in his bookshop.  
   
“I can’t believe I never saw you before,” Aziraphale gasped, completely and utterly put out by the idea.  “I feel like such an awful host!”  He did not share any of the brownies with his guests, however, because even hospitality has a limit.  “What did you say your names were again?”  
   
“Fingssssssss,” said Crowley, wiggling the appendages.  “Look at ‘em, fingin’ all over the place.”  He hadn’t even noticed he was no longer a giant serpent, but that simply added to the mystique of the ten long fingers on his newly-returned hands.  
   
“My name is Gossamer Heartglitter!” one of the fairies exclaimed.  She was about four inches tall with long blonde hair and a lacey pink dress made of rainbows.  Her companion was dark haired and wearing a purple dress made of dewdrops.  “And my friend is Calista Moonsprite.  And don’t feel bad, Aziraphale – most people don’t see us unless they want to!  But we wanted to introduce ourselves to you and your handsome friend!”  She batted her eyelashes at Crowley, who didn’t notice, too busy figuring out what the hard shiny parts on his fingers were.  
   
Calista had landed on Aziraphale’s shoulder and was tugging at the long thick curls on the angel’s head.  “It was all her idea; I didn’t want to,” the fairy muttered, blushing and pulling.  “I definitely don’t like you!”  
   
“Fing fing the musical fruit the more you eat the more you -” Crowley couldn’t keep singing because he started to crack up, laughing mixed with hissing.   
   
“Bugger,” said Aziraphale, eyes wide and full of wonder.  “Oh, bugger.”  He smiled.  “This is so exciting!  Are you wyldfae, or brownies, or sidhe?  Seelie or Unseelie?  Oh, you must be from the summer court!  Or is that Summer Court?  I don’t know about you silly things with your capitalisation.  We love capitalisation where I come from.  Sometimes.  Seeeeeelieeeeee.”  
   
The fairies looked at each other awkwardly.  “Um, actually, we’re-”  
   
Crowley perked up.  “Hey!  Little thing with the dress!  Gerroff m’ aaansheeeel.”  He frowned, although only half of his face cooperated.  “I don’ like thingsss touchin’ him, even little things with things, like you.  Thing, fing, th-fing.”  
   
Calista stuck her tongue out at Crowley.  “I don’t like you most of all!” she declared.  “You’re a jerk, and you’re definitely not good enough for Aziraphale!”  She abruptly blushed, looking horrified she’d admitted it out loud.  “Although I don’t like him either.”  She kicked Aziraphale’s earlobe.  He didn’t notice.  
   
“I’m hungry,” said Crowley, looking surprised at that announcement.  The fairies both squeaked in terror and hid in Aziraphale’s coat.  
   
“Me too,” Aziraphale agreed, shocked.  
   
The two didn’t move as they digested this information.  Finally Crowley stood up and dramatically made his way to the front of the shop, although he kicked the desk on the way there.  “We’re going to find food!”  
   
Aziraphale wibbled.  “Where are you going?”  He, and the two bookshop fairies by default, followed him out, thus beginning their incredible journey.  
  

 

**Aziraphale and Crowley’s Epic Search for Munchies**

   
There was a Shell petrol station a couple of blocks away, which was where Crowley was heading in a beeline.  Aziraphale ran behind him, wailing, until he caught up.  “Where arrrre – rrrrrrrrrrrr.”  He giggled.  “I sound like a pirate.  I could use some rum, maybe.”  
   
“With cheese,” Crowley muttered.  “Yessss, cheese.  Cheddar, or asiago.”  
   
The bookshop fairies came out of Aziraphale’s coat once they realized that they weren’t in danger.  “That Crowley is so dreamy,” said Heartglitter, glittery hearts floating around her head.   
   
Her friend poked them until they popped.  “I think they’re both ugly,” said Moonsprite, scowling mightily at the walking angel and demon ahead of them.  “I definitely _don’t_ think Aziraphale is incredibly attractive in a nerdy sort of way.”  To prove her point, she sped up and began to muss up his scarf.   
   
“I like cheese,” Aziraphale said brightly.  “Also, I’m cold.”  
   
“Me too.  Heeey!”  Crowley, with some effort, made his hand move towards the fairy pestering Aziraphale, although he missed and grabbed the double vision he saw of her.  “Leave him alone or I’ll cover _you_ with cheese!”  He stared at his empty hand.  “Ssssssssssss.”  In theory he’d said something, although nobody knew what it was.  
   
“What?” asked Heartglitter, resting on his shoulder and nuzzling his ear.  Aziraphale seethed with jealousy.  
   
 Crowley showed her his empty hand.  “Linesssss,” he said.  
   
“Wow, that’s so sexy,” she cooed.  
   
“Let’s go!” Aziraphale whined, pulling on Crowley’s arm as the other fairy was pulling on Aziraphale’s.  “I need fooooood.”  
   
“Crunchy,” Crowley agreed, dragging Aziraphale along.  As the two walked to the Shell clinging to each other, any other passersby looked at them and stared or screamed, depending.  A few people called the police.  
   
They invaded the fuel station and Crowley instantly found a bag of cheese puffs.  Aziraphale ran around the shop looking for something, although he didn’t know what it was.  “I don’t know what I want because I’m too hungry to know what I want!” he cried, looking at Crowley, who was happily stuffing himself full of cheese puffs.  
   
Moonsprite, definitely not being helpful, handed Aziraphale a box of chocolate.  He beamed – literally and figuratively – and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  She declared it was disgusting although she blushed terribly.   
   
Crowley gasped.  “Cheater,” he said.  
   
“You tell him, honey,” Heartglitter cheered.  
   
“What was that, my dearest?” asked Aziraphale, “I got these fair and square, nom nom nom.”  
   
“Nooo y’ cheated on _me_ with a fairy!” Crowley retorted, and his bloodshot yellow eyes filled with tears of betrayal and woe.  
   
“She gave me chocolate,” Aziraphale replied as if that explained everything.  
   
To Crowley, it did.  “Oh, okay.  Well, don’ do it again, it’ssss not nicccce and I will have to kill her horribly.”  
   
“All right then, sweetheart.”  Aziraphale continued to glow as he ate his chocolate.   
   
Moonsprite stuck her tongue out at Crowley.  He miracled a flyswatter and smacked her with it, causing her to fall to the ground.  He didn’t notice she wasn’t dead, though, because then he continued to stuff his face with cheese puffs.  Heartglitter doted on her, even if Moonsprite pretended she didn’t like it.  
   
A nice young man wearing a uniform walked into the fuel station, spotting the two and sighing before walking over to them.  “Put down the food,” he said, sounding not at all surprised.  “You’re going to have to come with me.”  
   
“But I don’t want to,” Crowley replied gamely.  Aziraphale nodded in agreement, and he didn’t put down his chocolate.  “And you can’t make me because I’m a vicccciousssss evil Hell demon of rage and fury, grrrrr.”  
   
The policeman did not look impressed.  “How much have you two had?  Clearly a lot...”  
   
“About five pieces,” said Aziraphale, popping another one into his mouth.  
   
“I meant marijuana.”  
   
Crowley snickered, hissing.  “That ssssoundsssss dirty.”  
   
"Yeah, too much."  The policeman ran out of patience and arrested them for consumption of an illegal substance, disorderly conduct, and for not wearing trousers.  
   
“Fear my great powers of evil and things!  I can damn your soul and eat it!  You’ll never get me alive!” Crowley proclaimed even as he was pushed into the policeman’s vehicle.  He was also slapping at him ineffectually with the flyswatter.  “Okay, maybe you will, but take the fairy too!”  
   
“I will, don’t worry,” the policeman muttered darkly, going back in to get Aziraphale.  
 

 

**Don’t Drop the Soap**

  
“Maaaaare-ooooo-waaaaan-aaaaa,” Crowley sounded out.  “Bet you never thought you’d be in jail, angel!”  He laughed.   
   
Their jail cell was large and shared by three other men.  The three thought that Crowley looked completely insane, and that Aziraphale was clearly higher than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.  
   
“I didn’t,” Aziraphale wibbled.   “Except all those times that I was in jail.  But those don’t count.”   
   
“Why aren’t either of you wearing trousers?” asked one of the men.  No one answered him.  
   
“Awww, isn’t that cute, two lovebirds,” cooed one of the other men.  
   
“No, there aren’t any of thossssse,” Crowley replied happily, “Jussssst the two fairies, and I don’t think they’re in love, although they are kind of bitchy.  Hey, am I wearing bootssssss?” He stared at his feet in complete shock.  “Or are they feet?  I.  Don’t.  Know.”  
   
“We’re not in love!” Moonsprite protested.  “I don’t even like her!  I’m incapable of love!  I don’t love anyone!”  
   
“Oh hush, dear,” Heartglitter murmured, trying to cover her mouth so the humans didn’t hear her.  “Besides, I love Crowley, and I can admit it!”  She fluttered over to him.  
   
“Well, the fairies have to earn their place here,” said one of the other men threateningly.  “So-”  
   
Crowley was still a little high from the pot brownies and the cold medicine he’d been taking.  Aziraphale, however, was coming down, and his head ached something fierce besides, so he wasn’t in a joking mood.   
   
“Oh, that’s it.  If you touch him I swear to God I will shiv you*,” growled Aziraphale.  Despite the fact that he looked as if he could shiv absolutely nothing, the Fear of Aziraphale went down the spines of the three prisoners.  Which was ironic, because he was actually talking to Heartglitter, who was precariously close to Crowley’s black speedo.  
   
In Heaven, Metatron gleefully read a memo detailing Aziraphael’s Blasphemous Talk and descended to rub it in his face before hopefully Felling him.  When he arrived in the jail cell, however, he was shocked to find Aziraphael in nothing but a tartan speedo who threatened to shiv him too, bloody wanker.  And that is how Metatron paid their bail and went home to shower for a least a week.  
   
*  By which he actually meant Shiv, as in invoke the wrath of the Third Eye of Shiva upon them.  They only _thought_ he meant the knife.  Which is ironic, considering Metatron’s reason for being there.

 

**Aziraphale and Crowley Learned a Lesson from All This…**

   
“I’m never trusting anything Adam sends ever again,” Crowley groaned, burrowing back into bed.  
   
“Amen to that,” Aziraphale agreed, curling up with him.  The two shared a chaste kiss, relieved to be home and in pyjamas.  They each miracled a glass of wine to start drowning their sorrows.  
   
“By the way, what ever happened to our trousers?”  
   
“I have no idea.”

 

**… Or Not**


End file.
